Hall of Fire
by Elwen Of The Hidden Valley
Summary: The war is ended but trust takes time.


Disclaimer : I do not own LOTR and I apologise to JRRT, who is no doubt turning in his grave.

The bride and groom lead their guests from the wedding breakfast, smiling and nodding regally to the populace allowed to assemble in the courtyard of the White Tree. Behind the High King and Queen came four diminutive figures, looking a little uncomfortable in their velvet finery and seeming even smaller by the side of the towering White Wizard. Watchers were next treated to the sight of the Steward, in black and silver, with the willow slender lady of the Rohirim upon his arm. The lady's brother, the as yet uncrowned King of the Rohirim, came next, glowering slightly as he inserted himself determinedly before the nobility of Gondor. These worthies had arranged themselves in orderly pairs and in strict order of precedence, proud heads held high.

Gimly and Legolas had attached themselves to the large party of dark haired, dour faced Dunadain. If the proud elite of Gondor felt a little intimidated by these folk they betrayed it by neither word nor deed. The sombre fabrics of the northern men's clothes were simple in form, in sharp contrast to the jewel toned layers of the Gondorian nobility's heavily embroidered finery and even sharper against the flowing greys and pale blues of those who followed on.

Leaving a small gap, at the rear strode the tall and ethereal figures of the Eldar, lead by Galadriel, Celeborn and Elrond. In the torch lit silence Galadriel's voice spoke clearly in Elrond's mind. "As the father of the bride should you not be walking behind the happy couple?" Her tone was light and Elrond glanced aside to see a twinkle in her eye.

His own unvocalised reply was equally amused. "I thought it may look a little undignified if I started to tussle with the great and wealthy of Gondor."

Galadriel chuckled aloud "That did not stop King Eomer."

"He will have to negotiate treaties with these people shortly. He cannot afford to appear weak," her marriage son replied mildly.

Galadriel seemed to find this even more amusing and her laughter garnered a few disapproving stares from the citizens. "I believe his expression alone will disabuse anyone of that notion."

Even as she spoke Eomer turned his glowering countenance upon a Lady of Gondor who had unwittingly stepped upon the edge of his heavy green cloak in her eagerness to be seen consorting with royalty. She and her partner immediately hung back, their eyes drawn to the huge sword that Eomer had insisted upon wearing, even at this social event. The apologetic smiles of the lord and lady only garnered a raised eyebrow from the future king and they allowed themselves trembling sighs of relief as he released the pommel of his weapon and swung his back to them once more.

It was Elrond's turn to chuckle aloud now. "I think he quite enjoys playing the barbarian."

Now the High King and his entourage turned aside to enter a huge and heavily carved portal that had clearly been recently repainted and bedecked with flowers and greenery. Even Gondor's nobility were a little surprised to enter into the huge hall beyond. This place had not been open within the memory of generations. Although it was midsummer's eve fires blazed high within the large hearths at either end, and their dancing light was the only illumination within the vast space.

Celeborn grinned as he turned to his marriage son. "A Hall of Fire" he murmured. "It seems that the new king and queen are eager to revive the old traditions of their peoples."

Elrond nodded. "I was not aware that the Citadel had such a place. It must have been built by the Numenorians when they arrived in this land."

Celeborn nodded. "A tradition shared with our brethren in lands to the west. I have often wished that we had such a place within Caras Galadhon."

Galadriel glanced aside at her husband. "Thus proving that no matter how long you live with someone, there is always more to know about them."

If Celeborn considered making reply he decided to hold his peace.

Although elvenkind felt themselves in familiar surroundings Gondorian nobility had not seen its like before and milled about uncertainly. In the centre of one of the long walls were set two ornately carved and cushioned chairs, beneath a golden canopy. Other than these there was little in the way of formal seating, with benches, stools and a healthy scattering of cushions the only perches.

The Elessar and Queen Arwen, of course, took the only two chairs. Once guests in Rivendell the hobbits found little to confuse them here and, at the king and queen's waved invitation, settled in a merry gaggle on cushions about their feet.

Whilst mortal nobility continued to hesitate Celeborn lead the elven contingent, with Gandalf, Gimli and Legolas, to one of the hearths. There they settled themselves at ease upon cushions and stools. Glancing about him, Eomer seemed to decide that of the two parties, on this occasion the elven ones looked friendlier. Throwing off his heavy cloak and finally unbuckling his uncle's ancient sword, he sank gratefully onto a large, well padded cushion beside Gimli and Legolas. At a silent signal the Dunadain arranged themselves about the walls of the chamber, as honour guard.

Having observed all this in the Gondorian nobility had little choice. Faramir bowed deeply to his king and, aware that it was his duty to lead the way, drew a slightly reluctant Eowyn to the second hearth. There all Gondor's worthy's arranged themselves, a little self consciously it had to be said.

From his place, lounging elegantly upon a cushion at Celeborn's feet, Elrond hid his smiles as a few polite but slightly undignified arguments broke out across the room, where it became obvious that there were insufficient benches and stools for all. Those of lesser rank were forced to perch, stiff backed upon cushions, their finery spread carefully about them.

The bride and groom observed all in silence until everyone was settled, frowning a little at the two very obvious camps. Finally they arose to speak.

"You need not stand," Aragorn stated hastily, waving down those who would have stood with him. "Here all are equal." He spread his arms wide. "Welcome to Minas Tirith's Hall Of Fire. It has long been a tradition in the house of our raising," here he smiled at Elrond, "to spend evenings in a hall such as this. It is a place for singing and dancing, for story telling and talking or simply to be."

Arwen added, "It is our intention that this place will be open to all within the Citadel, day or night." Her clear gaze moved from one camp to the other. "A place where all races may meet and share in equality and freedom."

Their comments elicited some guarded nods from the elven contingency and a few quiet sniffs from the mortals. Within his mind Elrond heard Galadriel's amused thought again. "This is proving to be interesting."

"So please be at ease, lay aside any cares, and enjoy the good company and fine music." With these words Aragorn nodded toward the minstrel's gallery where musicians struck up their instruments and from the doorway pages entered, to circulate among the guests with trays of dainty finger food and glasses of crisp white wine.

Settling themselves comfortably once more Aragorn and Arwen struck up conversation with the hobbits, enquiring of them whether they were comfortably housed and how they passed their time. At home with him whom they had travelled, ragged and muddy, for many months the four little folk replied easily, whilst managing to commandeer an entire platter of food from one bemused page. So animated was their talk that it was some minutes before Arwen nudged her husband. "Nobody else is talking," she murmured.

Indeed, when Aragorn looked up it was to see that both groups were observing them and each other in uneasy silence. "This is not as easy as I had hoped it would be," he replied with a frown.

"It rarely is," Arwen responded with a wry smile.

It was Pippin who offered a solution to their problem. "You can't beat a good knees-up to get a party going." He paused in confusion. "Do elves do, 'knees-up?'" he asked as he turned to look at the elegantly reposed Galadriel.

Although her face did not change Pippin's blushed when he heard her laughing voice clearly in his head. "It has been known."

Aragorn gave no indication that he had heard the Lady of Lothlorien but he smiled down at the young hobbit. "An excellent idea, Master Took." Rising, he called out to the gallery, "The Solstice Ring, if you please." Then he turned to offer his hand to his bride and lead her out onto the floor.

Beneath her breath Arwen asked, "Which version?"

Aragorn grinned. "When in Gondor . . . "

With a soft laugh she took his hand and, side by side they began to move in a circle, their feet moving in complex measure to the music.

When they had gone through the steps once Faramir stood, offering his hand to Eowyn. "Do you know this?"

"It is slightly different to the one my people dance but I believe I can hold my own," she replied proudly.

Faramir chuckled as he drew her out to join hands with the King and Queen. "I would expect nothing less of you, my lady."

For two cycles of intricate steps the line of four continued, but then another couple joined the chain, and another. If Aragorn noticed that all the nobles were joined in strict order of rank he made no comment for smiles were beginning to break out among them.

"Hey, Pip. We know this one," exclaimed Merry suddenly.

"We do?" Pippin frowned at the elegantly weaving line of dancers in all their finery.

"You're not used to seeing it danced so slowly," Frodo chimed in with dawning realisation. "Watch their feet."

"Why bless my soul," Sam announced. "It's the Lithe Line! "

"So it is!" Pip finally replied. "I should have recognised it. It is Midsummer's Eve after all." He bounced to his feet, dragging Merry and Frodo with him. "Come on. There's room in the middle. If we double our steps it should be about the right tempo."

Sam was about to hide but Frodo pulled him with them into the centre of the huge room. "Oh no you don't, Samwise Gamgee. You need to practice for your own wedding." It was clear from Pippin's expression that there would be questions to answer upon that subject at some point in the future but Sam was spared at present by the need to organise themselves. Taking out their best hankies they grabbed ends until they formed a line. Then, taking their cue from Merry, who had always been the best dancer, they began to prance in a lively circle, with much stamping and laughter. Within moments there was a roar of delight and they were joined by Gimli, who rang the floor with his heavy boots. The antics of these little folk brought delighted laughter from Arwen and now there were two lines of circling dancers.

"They look very merry," Galadriel noted to her husband.

Celeborn grinned. "I suppose we should join them. Although it has been a long time since I danced Coranars Ring. I am not certain I shall remember the steps," he added with mock apology.

Galadriel snorted delicately as Celeborn grasped her hand in his. Elrond took her other hand.

On an unspoken command all the elves rose as one and formed an outer circle. Although their feet followed similar steps they seemed to move as a stately river flowing hypnotically about the borders of the hall.

The music grew louder and with a wink to his wife Aragorn began to lead their line between and around the elven river. With a whoop the hobbits wove their own pattern and soon Gondor's new Hall of Fire was a swirling tapestry of colour, music and laughter.

In centuries to come, long after elves had departed Middle earth and faded into legend, tales were told of that night . . . a magical time when so many different peoples, who had for so long mistrusted each other, had come together to discover that they were not so different after all.

END

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